


Getting the Girl, Getting Davy

by gandalfthesassy



Series: The Monkees Reader-Inserts [7]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 3+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Reader-Insert, because roommates do that, the others are your wingmen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: Three times you help Davy get the girl, and one time you get him. (The first chapter is based on the plot to "Here Come the Monkees," aka the series pilot. The rest are all inspired by other Monkees episodes but are ultimately original plots. Sort of.)Rated T for explicit language, allusions to drug usage, mild drunkenness, and implied sexual content (spoilers). Gender-neutral reader, unlike my last Davy/Reader. Based on the CHARACTERS of the Monkees, not the actual guys.Also, some Peter/Micky flirting/implied banging thrown in at the end because why let Davy and you have all the fun?(y/n) means your name or the name you go by. (f/n) means your full name.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Micky makes sure you're okay. Oh yeah, and Davy wants to help Vanessa or something.

1.

You peeked through the blinds as Davy strummed a guitar softly on the couch. “Surf’s coming up,” you noted, glancing over your shoulder. When he didn’t respond, you made your way over to him. “You wanna go for a swim?”

“Thanks, I’m okay,” he didn’t take his attention from his playing. You could tell he wanted to talk about something but couldn’t bring it up.

“Is something bothering you?”

“We could’ve used that money,” he muttered. “The thousand. Would’ve been groovy to have that much.”

“Hey, there’ll be other jobs,” you dismissed his statement. “Don’t worry. If worse comes to worse, I’ll steal some cash from my folks and get you food.” He looked up at you for a moment before staring worriedly at the neck of the guitar. “Look, man, what’s really bugging you?” you sat beside him, hoping he’d open up a little.

“Well,” he relented, “she’s a groovy kid, you know.”

“Vanessa? Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, remembering that sweet girl (with that snooty, hippie-hating, overbearing father) who’d gotten Davy’s attention. “So what?”

“So...I don’t know,” he grew a little defensive, “it’s just that she’s failed her exams, and that’s no fun. I really messed up.”

“Wait. You think that’s _your_ fault? You didn’t distract her from studying, did you?”

“Well, no, but I didn’t exactly encourage her _to_ study. And besides, there’s no difference really, she’s still in deep shit from her father.”

You couldn’t figure him out. He seemed genuine enough about this girl, but she was seventeen, after all. It must not have been romantic like you thought, but you weren't sure. So you asked: “What do you wanna do?”

He took a moment, staring ahead, before turning to you. “I want to help her.” You smiled a little. Before you could tell him how sweet that was, a voice floated in from the exit down to the beach.

“Of _course_ you wanna help her,” agreed Micky. “I wanna help Peter too, but I can’t.” Peter appeared from behind Micky and entered. Micky adopted the voice of a frail old man and finished: “He’s feeble. He could break with a simple touch!”

“Hey, knock it off!” Peter pouted, but the two shared a quick giggle to show they were both in on it. You didn’t hide the disappointment on your face at having been interrupted as Davy and Peter put their heads together to form a plan. Micky came over to you.

“You alright there, (y/n)?” he asked, head tilted slightly. You jumped a little and got to your feet, adjusting your sleeves as you laughed nervously.

“Of course, I just, I really don’t want Davy to get killed by that dad of Vanessa’s,” you half-lied. Micky looked at you expectantly, and you folded your arms. “I’m serious. Don’t assume that it’s jealousy of Vanessa or anything like that. If he’s happy to help her, I’m down to help him.”

“Okay, I won’t assume,” Micky put up his hands defensively. “But let me know if you need some kind of love potion whipped up.” You grimaced. “On second thought, I’ll let you pine from a distance.”

“Thanks, Mick, you’re a real pal,” you gave him a sarcastic thumbs up. You’d been pining for a year or so, why stop now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mike figures it out and offers to help.

2. 

You curled up on the couch, still listening to the Monkees practicing--or rather, they  _ had been  _ practicing, but when Davy tried to leave early, Mike protested and demanded to know why. 

“C’mon guys, it’s the last night she’ll be in America and I want to say goodbye,” Davy pleaded. “Her flight leaves in two hours.”

“She might not even be there at the airport,” Peter jumped in. 

“That’s a good point,” Micky murmured his concurrence. 

“Can’t you lot practice without me?” Davy demanded. “I’ll only miss an hour of practice.” 

“Yeah,” Mike retorted, “one hour of a  _ two-hour  _ rehearsal.”

“The first step to move on is to totally forget about them,” Peter added, trying to be helpful, but Davy’s look of betrayal made him look away in embarrassment. 

“Well, I’m not doing this because I hate the band or anything,” Davy insisted. “I need to just see her leave and then I can go on, move on to bigger and better lovers.”

“I’ll drive you,” you stood and spoke up. They all looked at you. Davy’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh, thank you, (y/n), you don’t know how much this means to me!” he declared as you came over. 

“I can probably guess,” you said with mild amusement at his attitude. “Mike, have you got the keys to the Monkee Mobile?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Mike dug around in his pockets. “Aw shit.”

“What’s up?” 

“No, it’s fine. They’re up in Micky’s and my room.” He was halfway through his next sentence before he noticed you dashing up the stairs two at a time. You tore through the room, knocked over a few knick-knacks as you did so, found the keys, and slid down the railing. “Well, that was fast.”

“We don’t have much time,” you recalled. “Come on Davy, let’s go see her off.” 

You returned home a few hours later. The goodbye had been a little tearful, mostly on Davy’s end, but on the car ride back he thanked you so much you eventually had to tell him, “I know, she meant a lot to you, I get it. I’m glad you got to say goodbye.” 

“Well, so am I,” he settled back into his seat, watching the world fly by. “Have you ever had to do that? Watch the one you love fly somewhere else?” You went rigid. “Metaphorically, of course.” 

“Of course I have. You get numb to it after a while. Besides, there’s no point in getting hung up over them,” you tried to put on a brave face, feeling Davy’s concerned stare without turning to face him. “They probably wouldn’t be happy with you anyway.”

“Oh I don’t know about that. Sometimes you gotta let love blossom, and take your chances. You might just get something good.” 

“I guess so.” 

Just as you ran out of things to talk about, you pulled up to the apartment complex and parked the Monkee Mobile. Inside, the other three guys rushed to Davy to comfort him, but he brushed them off and explained that you’d had a good, long talk with him and that he was working through it. You didn’t even look at them, you just walked onto the balcony and leaned against the railing. If you went down to the beach, you could get away from these dorks for a while. 

But just as you got up the nerve to head down, someone came to stand beside you. In your periphery you caught a blue beanie. You dragged your hands down your face. “Listen, Mike, before you ask, I’m just fine. I think Davy’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re real sweet on him, aren’t you?” he asked politely, his voice free of judgment. 

“I, you know what? I don’t know. I’m so used to helping him with his love life I don’t have time for one myself.”

“No, not on top of trying to find us gigs,” he agreed. “No, listen, (y/n), before you go anywhere, I want you to know that you have my full support. Even if Davy doesn’t get the hint, I know you’re trying to be positive. I think the fact that you want to see him happy is real sweet, but remember, you gotta think about  _ your _ feelings.” You didn’t say a word, you just nodded. He patted you warmly on the shoulder. “You gotta love yourself too, remember that.”

“I know. Thanks, Mike.”

“Hey Mike!!” Peter cried from inside. “Come look at this!”

“Good luck with shorty,” Mike used the one nickname he could never get away with around Davy as he walked away. You crossed your fingers, hoping it would go right the next time. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter asks if you're okay, and you're not okay, and the three of them (Peter, Mike, and Micky) offer to get you and Davy together.

3. 

“But Mother, I love him!” the young woman cried, her brunette bob bouncing as she protested. She hugged Davy’s arm, pulling him close and towering over him. The other Monkees stood behind her, waiting uncomfortably for her mother, the Duchess of Freidan, to decide what she would do with them.

“He’s a dirty foreigner, Rachel,” the Duchess leaned forward on her throne, eyes boring into Davy. “You know what we do with dirty foreigners.”

“I’m actually quite clean, thank you,” Davy chimed in nervously. “All the stuff guys my age are doing, I’d never touch it--”

“That’s _enough_ out of you! You’ve intruded on our peaceful homeland and played your awful music…”

“Now wait, wait, hold on a minute. _You_ invited _us_ ,” Peter reminded her.

“Yeah,” Micky agreed, “if you didn’t want us here, why did you hire us?”

“I thought you were actual monkeys! In my defense, your name was only spoken to me. If I had seen it written down…” The boys agreed in various ways but the Duchess silenced them. “But that’s not the point! You have still become a great nuisance to us.”

“I’d hate to see you meet an _actual_ monkey,” Mike snarked.

“Get rid of them!” The Duchess threw her hand from a gesture towards her guards to the boys, who all huddled together and cried for help.

“Wait!” you jumped out from the shadows, running in front of the guard who’d headed for Davy. You were close enough to him that you felt his surprised hands brush against your back. You shook yourself slightly as you spoke, mustering more courage than you had. “Princess Rachel is a very intelligent young woman, and I can confirm that she’s a good judge of character. Davy Jones is one of the kindest, nicest, most good-looking people I’ve met, and you’d be hard-pressed to find someone like him even in a country as nice as this.”

“She needs to take her responsibilities seriously, naïve (y/n),” the Duchess rose to her feet. “She no longer has the luxury to be a carefree maiden. And your little friend might not be prepared for married life, much less the ruling life.”

“I’m not saying Davy should marry her, God no. But I think they really enjoy spending time together,” you chose your words carefully, “and it also might help to give them one night where he guards her from anyone who might come to harm her. And if he’s incapacitated, we’ll chaperone and jump in.” Davy stepped out from behind you, his arm touching your arm a little longer than was really polite.

“(y/n) has a point,” he agreed. “I can knock the lights out of anyone who comes to harm Rachel.” He shadow-boxed for a moment to demonstrate, and you nodded your assent.

“Well...I suppose,” the Duchess drawled, “if you’d be protecting her for free…”

“$2 an hour,” you jumped in.

“$2?! Are you out of your mind?”

“Kidding!” you laughed. “$3.” The Duchess gave you as if she was about to have you executed, so you shot her your infamous sad eyes. She resisted, but eventually she caved.

“Alright, Rachel, show the young man to your room.”

Rachel squealed and held her hands out to Davy, who took them and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and led him out of the room. Before he rounded the corner, he gave you a grateful smile and you winked.

“I bid you goodnight, Monkees and (y/n),” the Duchess returned to her throne. “You are dismissed.”

The four of you walked back to your rooms. You lagged behind unknowingly. Peter joined you after a few steps, asking quietly, “Did you really mean that?”

“Mean what? Yeah I wanted you all to get paid for your troubles,” you talked too fast for your normal speaking voice. “I think she was nothing but mean to you and you all don’t deserve that.”

“I meant about Davy.” You whistled a little, drawing your attention to the tapestries on the wall. “(y/n), it’s okay. I mean, we’ve all had a crush on Davy at some point. Right guys?” You protested, thinking the others would judge you.

“Yeah,” Mike lagged back a little to walk beside Peter. “I’ve definitely thought some things about him that I’d never admit, even to my priest.”

“And I’m fairly certain I’ve made a drunken move on him at a party,” Micky hung back to walk beside you. “You might not think of him in that way, but what Peter’s saying is, we totally get it. If you want to get with him, we could help you.”

“How do you know I wanna get with him?” you demanded as you reached your room. The three exchanged a glance of genuine surprise and grouped together in front of you.

“You know him well enough to know him for real,” said Mike.

“So what?” you retorted. “I know you guys too but I don’t like you like that.”

“And you always put his needs before yours,” added Micky.

“But that’s my _job--_ ”

“And you wrote him that song about loving someone even if they might not tell,” finished Peter. “Good song, by the way. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Well…” you stammered, trying to find a way to defend yourself. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I think at this point it’s gotten beyond love to genuine obsession and I need to cool it for a while. _Yes_ , I like him, but there’s no point if he doesn’t like me back. And I thought, Mike, I thought you said you’d support me, not that you’d pressure me into doing something.” They backed off, looking more than a little guilty for pushing you. “It is starting to get to me, and I know that. But you know him like I do and you know what he does with people after he’s through with all the fun and pleasure. I don’t want to end up like that.”

“He wouldn’t do that to you,” asserted Peter.

“How do you know?”

“Well, let’s just say if he did,” Mike stood straight and tall, “he’d spend the rest of his life in a shallow grave.”

You opened the door to your room and turned back to them long enough to say: “None of you could punch through a wet paper towel.” When they didn’t correct you, you went inside and closed the door, pressing your back against it. Sometimes you wished you just couldn’t feel emotions.

A moment later, you heard a knocking. “(y/n)? I need to come in. You know, we’re sharing this room?” A little more quietly, Peter said, “My stuff is all in here.” You dragged a hand down your face and opened the door reluctantly. He thanked you and came inside. You noticed the other two were still there, and you invited them in. The four of you sat on the floor. They looked at you. You looked at them.

“Are you serious?” you asked at last. Your words startled Mike, who’d gone half to sleep.

“Well, yeah,” he confirmed. “We know how much he means to you.”

“You mean a hell of a lot to him too,” smiled Micky. “He’s kinda sweet on you, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“And we’re not always the greatest at helping but we try,” Peter shrugged. “So we want to do what we can to help you and Davy be happy…”

“And if that means getting you together, we’ll do it,” Micky finished.

“Why?”

“What do you _mean,_ why?!” Mike cried, and the three of you shushed him. He repeated the question in a loud whisper. When you didn’t amend your statement, he kept talking. “You’re both beautiful, wonderful people and you deserve each other. Call me soft-hearted, but I think Davy might just settle down with you, for as long as you both love each other.”

“Well...alright,” you told them, “when we get back you can help. But we all gotta keep watch tonight, so we should decide who’s doing what.” Micky groaned and you promised: “Cupid can wait until we’re a little less under threat of death.”

None of them disturbed you for the rest of the night, except to change shift outside of the princess’ room. After your shift, you sat awake a little longer than normal, feeling miserable, but you couldn’t deny the anxious excitement beginning to form in your chest.

To hell with pretending to be cool. You _were_ in love. There was no sense in pretending you weren’t. You just had to expect rejection and ask him anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you all celebrate your good fortune, and you put the icing on the cake.

1. 

A few weeks went by after the whole Freidan thing. Luckily you didn’t have to come to his and Rachel’s defense, but afterwards Davy seemed pretty bummed out about not getting to rule a small province. Peter reminded him on the way home about the Princess of Harmonica, to which Davy pouted and stared out the window of the Monkee Mobile. 

Finally, after a really solid gig at a local nightclub, the owner decided to sign them on for a fifteen-week stint, with enough money earned at each gig to hold a small party in the pad--it was certainly enough for the rent and more. So you did just that. You didn’t really invite anyone other than your landlord and a few of your neighbors (just the adults, not the kids). You convinced the landlord to bring a bottle of champagne and you all talked late into the morning. By about 1am, the neighbors and landlord had cleared out, and you were, quite frankly, a little tipsy. The others seemed a little more sober than you, but Davy was about your level--not drunk enough to slur, but definitely a little more open than normal. 

You knew because as soon as Mike announced that it was exactly 1am and you all should get to sleep, Davy pouted grandly and hummed angrily. The rest of you laughed a little. “You’re acting like me,” Micky pointed and told him.

“Well I don’t wanna go to bed, Mikey, and you can’t make me,” Davy insisted. “I’m gonna stay here with my very best friend (y/n).” And before you could jump in and mock him, he moved aside and plopped into your lap. You wrapped your arms around his waist before he fell off of you. “And we’re gonna stay up all night!!”

“So much for being clean-cut kids,” Mike droned, earning more giggling from Micky and Peter, who were sort of half sitting in each other’s laps. Davy gasped. 

“Oh my  _ God, _ I’m drunk, aren’t I?” 

“You’re  _ tipsy _ , not quite drunk,” you corrected him, unable to keep the smile from your face. “And  _ adorable _ .” You squeezed your arms around his waist and coaxed him to turn sideways so you could look at him. Even in his drunken haze, he seemed flustered at what you were doing. “And you know what? In the presence of the local peanut gallery,” you gave a nod to the other three, who seemed to group together and watch with interest, “I’d like to tell you, Davy Jones, that I, (f/n), am madly in love with you, and I know you like me too because everything you do tells me that you do.” The room got very quiet for a second as Davy looked confused. “Wait, Davy, you do like me, don’t you?” 

“I do like you a lot, (y/n),” Davy lazily pointed a finger at you. You and the others let out the breaths you were holding. “Do you...you really like me?” 

“I do. And  _ wow _ you smell like booze.” Everyone lost it at that point. Davy threw his arms around your neck and laughed, his head bonking yours. “Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m such a klutz.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Peter picked up his champagne glass again, as did the others. You reached for yours and as you got it, Davy pressed a little kiss to your cheek. 

“To Davy being a klutz?” you clarified. 

“No, no,” Mike stopped you, “to new love, and to you two finally getting over your fear of rejection.” 

“To (y/n) and Davy having a groovy time together, for as long as possible,” Micky joined in, topping up his glass and Peter’s. 

“To us having a great future,” added Peter.

“To (y/n) being the cutest bloody person I’ve ever known,” Davy tried to boop your nose but instead poked your cheek, to which you rubbed it with the back of your hand and the others laughed. 

“To Davy, for staying single just long enough that I could get with him,” you grinned madly, adjusting your arm around his waist a little as you did. 

“Didn’t I tell you? I sort of botched my chances with some of those girls because I thought they’d take me away from you. In the cases where they weren’t already bad, that is.” 

“By you, I assume you mean all of us,” you gestured to the others, who looked expectantly at him. He paused and looked right at you. 

“Mostly you,” he winked and you all laughed. 

“To us!” you finally finished the toast and you all sipped your champagne. The moment you removed your glass, Davy pressed his lips to yours tenderly as the others cheered. You kissed back for a moment before breaking it, looking at your audience. (You weren’t wrong in calling them the peanut gallery. They were great guys but they liked being funny too.) You suddenly felt a little embarrassed and, frankly, a little public, even in the pad. “Would you excuse us?” you asked of the others, and they nodded their assent. “Come on, Davy. Time for bed.” He reluctantly got off of your lap and trailed behind you as you made for his room. 

As you opened the door to head in, you suddenly felt Davy take your free hand. You turned to him and he pressed his lips to the knuckles of your hand, gazing at you in a way you never thought anyone would look at you. You tugged him inside his room and swept him into a deep kiss, knocking the door closed with your foot. 

Mike, Micky, and Peter all looked at each other for a very long moment. Behind the now closed door, they could hear the start of something all too familiar. 

“Well, we’re in for a long night,” Micky stated calmly. 

“Speak for yourself. You don’t have to share a room with him,” Peter pointed out. 

“No, I do not. Thankfully.” 

“Peter, you’re welcome to sleep in my bed for tonight,” Mike offered. “I’ll take the couch and throw a pillow over my head or something. I think (y/n) and Davy are gonna be a while.” 

“You know what, I say good for them,” Peter insisted as he headed up the staircase. Micky followed after giving Mike a discreet thumbs-up. “After being so unlucky with love, they both deserve someone nice. I don’t know if it’s true love but I bet you it’s pretty close.”

“Yeah,” Micky let his heart swell. “Makes you wanna do the same, doesn’t it?” Peter stopped and turned back to him, surprised. Micky’s voice suddenly grew sultry. “Well, come on. We haven’t had time for it in a while, what say we uh,  _ head up to bed _ ?” Peter nodded, getting giddier by the second. 

“OH MY GOD,” Mike suddenly yelled, not entirely serious, “is everyone going to fuck each other except me?!” He huffed exaggeratedly and folded his arms. 

“You can join us if you want,” Peter offered sincerely.

“No, I’m good,” Mike dismissed him with a wave of his hand, heading for the balcony. “Just give me a holler when you two finish your business.” 

The next morning arrived in the form of a couple of noisy, interfering birds outside the window in Davy and Peter’s room and a spilling of morning light in through said window, projecting the shadow of the window near the door to the main room. Your eyelids dragged themselves up as your brain grinded its gears and woke to the blank white of the ceiling. Your first thought was that you’d forgotten something. Your brain was halfway through telling your body to move when someone moved beside you. In his sleep, Davy nuzzled his nose into your neck, pressing his body against yours. With an amused sigh, you pulled your arm tighter around him and kissed his forehead (or rather, where his forehead would be under that bedheaded mess of bangs).

And you realized in that moment that he had always loved you, not always openly like you do when you’re dating, but he did really appreciate what you did for him. Whatever shit you had to do today could wait. Even after the night you’d just had, the two of you had a lot of explicit appreciation to catch up on. 


End file.
